Tears tease the corners of my eyes, and I lower my gaze to the open book on my desk. It has nothing to do with this class, but I need the distraction.
When kids start filing in with their laughter and conversations, I consider ditching the rest of class, but I can guarantee Mr. Harrington wouldn't allow it. Plus, I'm not one who gives up that easily. If she thinks she's getting her hands on him, she has another thing coming.
The rest of the class, I follow her lead. Whenever Mr. Harrington asks a question, no matter if I know the answer or not, I raise my hand just as she does. It earns a few chuckles from the class when I get one wrong, but at least I'm trying, or so they think.
I'm relieved when the end of class bell rings, but I'm also unsure what to do next. Usually, I'd head straight over to the library, but if my teacher is going to be helping that bitch, then maybe I'm just supposed to head home.
"Harlyn." He calls out, and once he has my attention, he motions me forward until I'm hovering over his desk. Lifting his eyes to mine, he says, "I'd like to talk to you about this assignment you turned in."
When I glance down, I notice it's not an assignment at all. It's an invitation to our next tutoring session at his home. The thought of meeting him at his home has my heart racing and all kinds of ideas rolling through my head about what we could do other than talking about anything related to school. But then as I read further, the note says tomorrow.
Tomorrow is the charity ball, and I can't miss it.
It also means he'll be spending the rest of this afternoon with her.
I turn and pin a stare on Catarina. She meets my gaze, and her lips turn up in a mischievous grin. This is her way of making a play on him, and I'm not going to let that happen. Swiping a pen from his desk, I write a note on the same invitation. Plans tomorrow, can we meet later tonight?
He looks from Catarina and back to me. There's turmoil in his eyes. It's as though the decision between us is one too difficult to make.
I'm not sure what game this is, but it's not one I'm interested in playing. I grab the paper from his desk, wadding it in my palm and tossing it in the trash. It's my fuck you, to him and his invitation.
Chapter Thirteen
Winston Asher Harrington
It crushed me to see Harlyn storm out of class yesterday. The realization of how much my feelings have grown for her over the school year happened at that moment.
After the library, I'd been seriously considering talking with her about a longer-term relationship once she graduates, of course, and tonight was supposed to be that conversation. But Harlyn is no longer answering any of my texts.
The situation with Catarina wasn't my idea. It's not something I want to do, but when she came to class early yesterday, threatening to expose what she saw at the library, I knew something had to be done. Now she's out of the picture, and I can focus my attention on Harlyn, which is why my tux lies on the bed.
I hadn't planned on attending the charity ball but had made a sizable donation, which means they'd have a seat reserved in my honor, whether empty or not.
I know it's a risk confronting her there. This dance is where everyone who's anyone comes together—members of the school board, society members, and just parents in general. There's also the added chance she'll not be there alone.
People talk, and if you're in the right circles, you hear things. I know she and Lance were a thing, and I was glad to learn she ended it. He's a shady bastard and will do whatever it takes to hide the fact his blood is not from a founding family.
I suspect if she's going, it'll be with him.
"There's only one way to find out," I tell myself, sliding from the bed and heading toward the shower.
Once I've dried and dressed, I'm fumbling with my tie when my cell rings. Thinking it may know who it is, I answer without looking at the number. "Harlyn?"
"I'd never wish that on my worst enemy." The voice on the other line says.
"Catarina. I thought we had an understanding." I growl.
"Oh, we do, and as I told you, my word is my promise. I'll not say anything to anyone about what I saw in the library, and in return, you owe me private tutoring and one favor." She clears her throat. "I'm calling in that favor."
"Whatever it is, it'll have to wait. I've got plans." I tell her, preparing to end the call.
"I know you're planning on going to the dance; it's the reason for my call. See, my date canceled at the last minute..."
"No! Absolutely not!" I shout. "I will not show up with you, Catarina, even if I wanted to. It's the same reason I hadn't asked Harlyn. I could lose my job."
She lets out a frustrated breath. "Just let me worry about that. Pick me up at 7:30 pm. I want to be fashionably late."
The fact I'm even considering this means I've lost my ever-loving mind. If I do it, I risk everyone there seeing us together, but if I don't, Catarina goes straight to her parents who are on the school board. Balancing which option poses more risk is what I'm considering now. "If I take you, how will you ensure I don't lose my job?"
"If my parents ask, I plan on telling them it's a school project. We're doing a documentary on what it would be like to be socially outcast. I mean, I've never actually been in that position, so it's a perfect experiment. They'll tell everyone what we're doing to avoid the shame of their daughter
